


Ballad of a Dead Woman

by Pixiestick_cc



Category: American Gods (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Romance, Dark Comedy, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Mild Sexual Content, Profanity, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-11-22 02:18:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11370531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixiestick_cc/pseuds/Pixiestick_cc
Summary: Sweeney kept up the con that he couldn’t give a shit, tossing pithy remarks to offend and throw her off track. He’d never let on that he might care. That there possibly was a soul buried underneath all his bluster and bruise. And maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t only the coin keeping him around.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't read 'American Gods', just really enjoyed the show, especially Sweeney and Laura's banter. If I got anything wrong in relation to their characters please forgive my ignorance of the book (or misunderstanding something from the show).
> 
> Thanks to PullTogether for the beta reading

Their road trip to find a god- anyone or thing really- that could help Laura, had hit another dead end. Gone stale. Just like her deteriorating body and its shrinking flesh barely hanging onto her bones. Shadow and Wednesday were off somewhere. Recruiting, Sweeney supposed. But as to where, they’d lost track. Naturally Laura blamed him. Now it was just them again- searching, looking- and as the days wore on, her smell of deterioration became harder to stomach. And he’d been known to stomach a lot in his millennia of existence. Having had a front row seat to some of the worst atrocities, man, god, demon- you name it- could offer, Sweeney had still been able to walk and yes, occasionally fly, the Earth with some semblance of sanity intact despite all the fucked up shit he’d seen.

And yet this time something was different. Watching her slowly decompose _felt_ different. Disgusting as fuck for sure, but also ... sad. Of course, he’d never admit that sentiment out loud, but Christ, it was sad. For her. And for him.

Still, Sweeney kept up the con that he couldn’t give a shit, tossing pithy remarks to offend and throw her off track. He’d never let on that he might care. That there possibly was a soul buried underneath all his bluster and bruise. And maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t only the coin keeping him around.

For as much as he clung to that hardened resolve of never letting anyone see the smidge of character hidden away in the deepest corners of his blackened heart, it all fell apart a week after they left Ostara.

The smell was fermenting inside the ice cream truck, wafting from Laura despite the chill coming from the vents. Vents that only worked half the time, thanks to their previous accident involving a shitton of bunnies. Sweeney was jabbing his fingers through the slats of the one nearest him. With his luck in its current flaccid state, the cold air wasn’t blowing, and as much as he hated the chill, he hated her putrid smell more. When fiddling with the thing proved futile, his mountain of blankets were tossed aside as he took his heel to the dashboard, screaming and cursing at the fucking thing as if it would work after being threatened into submission. On a normal day, this would’ve provoked his dead wife cohort to yell something at him to calm his tits, though she probably wouldn’t have used that phrasing. Mind you, that didn’t mean she was a bundle of sweetness. Her saucy mouth had the ability to give as good as she got.

Until now.

Laura’s response to his outburst was to pull over on some middle of nowhere road, turn the truck off, and rest her head against the steering wheel. Minutes of silence ticked by.

“That must be a record, aye?” Sweeney prompted, hoping to elicit some ‘ _what the fuck are you talking about_ ’ retort. When she stayed quiet, face smushed against the steering wheel, he pushed on. “You going that long without opening your fucking mouth.”

At this, Laura did respond by opening her mouth. Only it wasn’t the fighting words Sweeney was hoping for. Instead a gut-full of slimy maggots splattered near his seat where he’d tossed his blankets. “Christ,” he muttered, watching the white worms wriggle and writhe on the fabric he’d definitely no longer be using to keep himself warm. It wasn’t that the maggots surprised him. She’d done this before. Only this time there seemed to be so many of them. And fuck it, that smidge of a soul lit like a tiny ember in his heart. “You alright, dead wife?” The question came out laced with more concern than he’d meant to show.

“No, I’m not alright,” she groaned, less fire in her reply than usual. “I just vomited up maggots. I’d say I’m about as right as you were when I had your balls in my grip.”

_Ah there she is. The fighter._

“So in this scenario you’re what? My balls?” Sweeney shot back with a smirk. Knowing this response might have consequences, he instinctively guarded his prick with his hands. These were the dangerous games they played.

“Just …” Laura sighed, sending him a glower right before resting her forehead against the steering wheel once again. “Take it.”

“Take it?” he repeated.

Turning to face him, Laura’s skin dragged against the wheel, revealing bits of the decaying muscle around her eyes. “What the fuck else, ginger minge. Your coin.”

Sweeney’s smirk faltered.

“What? You don’t want it?” Laura pulled herself into a sitting position again, and for such a simple action it appeared difficult. Suddenly a stark image sliced through him and a different set of eyes stared at her. The tortured ones that had been a bystander as she slowly died on the side of the road. Twice. “Stop staring at me like some lost puppy. Take your coin. I sure as hell don’t want it anymore.”

“You don’t …” he hesitated, not liking the vulnerability sneaking out in his voice. _Get back down in there, soul!_ Sweeney cleared his throat and schooled his features into snarky indifference. “That’s it then? Ya just fucking quit? I overestimated ya, dead wife. Thought ya would fight till the end.” After placing his hands behind his head, Sweeney leaned back- another attempt at nonchalance- but Laura yanked one of his hands with such force he nearly tumbled into her lap. “Hey!”

“Just take it and finish me off!” she ordered with such conviction that Sweeney recoiled from the finality in it. “In case you haven’t noticed, this _is_ the end. _I’m_ ending.” Laura placed his hand over her chest, his coin only inches beneath his fingers. The calluses on his palm hummed. “Shadow doesn’t want me. I don’t know why the fuck I’m still traveling with you. There’s nothing out there that can help me. I need to just get over this obsession, and know that I’m over too. I thought I finally had something to live for, but like usual I was too fucking stubborn to accept it when he rejected me.”

Sweeney cringed. “So you're sayin' ya want me to shove my bloody fingers through your skin and pull out my coin?”

“Are you suddenly opposed to gore? To killing? Wasn’t so long ago your hands were around my neck holding me under water.”

“Can’t kill someone if they’re already dead.” Sweeney jerked his hand away, running it through his coarse red hair that may or may not have been flaked with dried blood.

But Laura wasn’t done. She snatched both his hands, yanking hard, and his knees protested when the metal floor greeted them. “Stop being such a pussy,” she insulted.

“I ain’t no pussy. And you, dead wife, are an asshole.” Sweeney groaned after he tried to free his hands and she tightened her grip.

“So I’ve been told. Multiple times. By you. Now go ahead and kill this asshole and get what you want.”

“If you’re on some suicide mission, do it yourself. Don’t bloody my hands.”

Laura finally released him, snidely remarking, “Oh so noble,” as he fell backward.

“I was ... once,” he mumbled, massaging the skin she’d likely added another layer of bruise to.

“So why the change of heart?” Laura asked, after Sweeney had moved back into his seat.

He released a whoosh of air from his lungs. The resolve had already cracked. She’d seen the fissures in his facade. Knew something was up. No point in lying. But maybe he could still save face. “Truthfully? Before … I didn’t know ya. Now I do. More difficult ending someone when you’re familiar, even if it is for my lucky coin.”

Laura shook her head in disbelief. “But you hate me.”

Sweeney didn’t respond.

“What, you don’t hate me now?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Yeah, you said nothing, which implies-”

“Implies nothin’. That’s what nothin’ is, nothin’,” he was quick to retort. Maybe a little too forcefully, because a corner of Laura’s mouth quirked upward, and he saw her glassy eyes light up as if she’d discovered a new way to torture him. _Fuck!_

“Oh you sick fuck, you actually-”

“I actually nothin’, dead wife.”

“You’ve-”

“Shut your fucking mouth!”

“Fallen for-”

He didn’t let her finish. And even if it was counterproductive, proving what she was about to say anyway, Sweeney silenced her by plunging across the aisle and pressing his warm mouth against her cold lips. The sensation was a mixture of opposition, each piece fighting to dominate the other. Vile and sweet. Hatred and longing. Death and life. And finally a beat. A pulse, pushing out from her into him. It was a kiss that lasted only seconds, but by the time her palms pushed against his chest and he was forced back into his own seat, a lifetime had passed for Sweeney.

“What the fuck was that?” Laura gasped.

Sweeney gagged, her smell finally winning over every other aspect that had constituted their brief encounter. That shit was just too fucking strong. “A kiss. Was it your first time, love?” He snickered once the tang of decay was no longer swimming through his mouth and nostrils.

“I know what a kiss is,” she replied and then slapped his cheek. Sweeney noted how it felt less anger fueled than usual, and tried to hide his smirk by pretending he was rubbing the spot her palm had struck. “I meant my heart.”

“What about that shriveled up old thing?”

Laura scowled and ran her fingers back and forth across the center of her chest. “It beat. Several times. Just like when Shadow ...” Her bloodless bottom lip receded behind yellowing teeth and she gnawed the skin, removing a small chunk in the process. Laura spit it out as her eyes flicked towards Sweeney. A realization creased her forehead, shadowing her features with what looked like dread. “Oh, fuck,” she exclaimed. “Shit. Shit. Shit. Not you.”


	2. Chapter 2

Before dying, Laura Moon was rarely surprised.

Under the weight of depression, her life felt like an endless crawl through dulled sensations, and she tended to greet unexpected change with a shrug. But in death, Laura was finding herself surprised more often than not. Surprised at being dead in the first place and it not being the black nothingness she assumed rushed towards everyone after their brain finished sputtering those last images of consciousness. Most believed in some variation of a dark tunnel leading them to something comforting on the other side. Laura expected nothing on the other side of her tunnel, because she believed in nothing. And even if someone had been there to comfort her, she certainly didn’t deserve it. No, Laura believed her end would be just that … an end.

But now she didn’t know what to believe. In gods? In lucky coins? In fucking leprechauns? That her second chance at life- and more importantly, redemption- rested in the dirty hands of the goddamn creature currently taking up space next to her. She thought spending eternity in a hot tub, inhaling bug spray fumes was the worst thing that could happen to her in the afterlife, but now … shit, this was bad. And just like most everything else in this new existence of hers, also _surprising_.

“How the fuck can a kiss from _you_ make my heart beat again?” Laura ran her tongue against the roof of her mouth, like Sweeney was a bad taste she couldn’t get rid of. The action was pointless; that sense had stopped working long ago. And besides, if anyone tasted bad around here, it was her.

She was glad her sense of smell had gone the same way as her taste. One peek at the maggots still squirming on Sweeney’s blankets reminded her why, and after fighting a cringe, Laura’s gaze fell back on the leprechaun who admittedly, was a slightly better sight than maggots. _Slightly_. “ _Well_?” she pressed, enunciating the word with as much irritation as she felt.

Sweeney’s brown eyes were briefly shrouded with a look that hinted at something deeper. Still, he acted clueless, plastering his face with that overused smirk Laura assumed must’ve worked on less discerning people, gods, or whatever the fuck else there was in this new world. But not her. Being cynical as hell had benefits, like the ability to see easily through bullshit.

“Suppose I just have that magnetism with the fairer sex,” Sweeney said with a wink. “A heartbeat is only a small preview of what I’m capable of.”

The cringe Laura fought earlier finally emerged. “First off, I know you’re lying. You are so fucking easy to read. And second, cut out that _fairer sex_ bullshit.”

Sweeney snickered. “Yeah, you’re right. No way you’d be considered fairer with all the pain you’ve put me through.”

“Finally some truth from you.” Laura eyed Sweeney’s crotch and made sure he noticed.

“No, dead wife, you ain’t hurtin' these jewels again.”

“Then tell me what you know.” Laura faked like she was aiming for his sensitive parts and he shrank away from her, curling himself into a defensive ball. She would’ve laughed at how comical he looked, with his long legs bunched up against his chest, if their situation wasn’t so damn frustrating.

“I don’t _know_ nothin’. Can only guess,” he replied.

“Then take your best guess.” Laura eased back into her own seat, hoping a non-combative stance would help convince Sweeney to spill whatever it was he knew. Intimidation usually worked on him, but she sensed this might not be the best time to let loose all the powers his coin gave her. “Look, I don’t want to fight with you. All I know is that when I kissed Shadow my heart beat. When he pulled away it died again, and I never got to figure out if he could fix this whole zombified affliction of mine. But you got my heart to work too, so … Sweeney, tell me what that guess of yours is.”

She’d never used his name before. Always referred to him with some insult. But now, Laura was attempting to reach that other side of him she knew existed. The soft underlayer he’d only revealed in snippets over their short time together. Usually with that tortured look, or more recently, with his refusal to take his coin back. She hoped appealing to that part of him would give her what she wanted. “And please,” she added, “refrain from this involving your dick somehow.” It was meant as a joke, but Laura made sure to thread her words with enough warning that he’d catch on.

Sweeney chuckled. Letting his knees drift away from his chest, he teased, “Ya dunno what you’re missin’.”

Laura raised a cautioning eyebrow.

“Calm down. I was just takin' the piss outta ya,” Sweeney explained, although, Laura wasn’t quite sure what that meant. “The truth is, Shadow can’t raise the dead. _I_ can’t either … on my own. But with that coin inside ya and some connection between us …” He shrugged. “There might be a way.”

“Connection? What connection?” Laura asked, exasperated. “We barely know each other.” Sweeney flashed her that knowing, wounded look from before and it took all the willpower she possessed not to fly into his seat and shake the truth out of him. “What are you hiding?” she demanded. But before Sweeney could open his mouth with an answer, flashing red lights combined with a familiar wailing noise told Laura they would soon have company. “Shit. What now?” she grumbled, glancing in the rearview mirror to see an approaching police cruiser.

“The way I see it,” Sweeney calmly said, bringing Laura’s attention back to him, “there’s only two reasons that cop’s gonna pop up to your side there in a sec and say hello. Either they know the truck’s stolen, or they’re here to help a down on his luck ice cream man with a broken truck. Which of course won’t be much help at all since it’s not your truck and you ain’t sellin’ any ice cream.” Laura went for the keys, but stopped short of starting the ignition when Sweeney warned, “You take off, they chase. More unwanted attention.”

“And what do you suggest? You obviously have something you want to say, so stop being cryptic and fucking say it.”

“You could fight your way out,” he continued, ignoring her outburst. “But let's face it, my coin may be strong, but the meats been slowly slidin' off ya for days, and one wrong punch could send that arm of yours flying outta those stitches. Objectively speaking, you’re on your last leg. Plus, cops do tend to carry guns around with them. But there’s another option for you _..._ ” Sweeney offered his hand for her to take, “you could put your trust in me.”

Laura’s gaze narrowed. “In you? Not likely.” But after a quick glance at the rearview mirror showed the police officer exiting his vehicle, she weighed Sweeney’s options again. “Do I even have a choice?”

“There’s always a choice, dead wife. Anyone can choose for themselves who they wish to put their faith in. You can put yours in me or let this play out in a different, messier way.”

“Trusting _you_ feels like one of those horrible choices I’m well-known for making,” she muttered.

“Won’t know till you’ve done and made it, will ya?” he said, his expression edging away from that identifying smugness and into something more somber. “Come on, all the answers you want are only a hand hold away, Laura Moon.”

“Ugh fine,” she grumbled at last, letting Sweeney’s fingers tighten around hers. And then after a quick tug, she found herself in his lap, watching with annoyance as he tried to hold in a gag.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he finally coughed out, managing to tolerate her smell long enough to spread his hand over the center of her chest and say, “Hold still. I need to feel it.” But when his fingertips began trailing downward, Laura blanched.

“Whoa. If you’re about to feel what I think you are, then expect to soon be fingerless, asshole.”

Sweeney rolled his eyes and let out an indignant huff. “Fucking hell, I wasn’t reaching for _that_.”

“Well, how I’m supposed to know? You did kiss me, unprovoked.”

“Trust me, dead wife, that ain’t an area I go for without permission.”

Despite Laura’s past experiences with men, and every decaying cell inside her body yelling otherwise, something in Sweeney’s voice sounded genuine enough for her to believe him. “Fine. Whatever. Just try not to-” she began, but gasped when a sudden heat prickled the area underneath his hand, causing her back to arch involuntarily. The warm humming sensation quickly spread throughout the rest of her body as a gush of wind whirled between them, and before she could even ask what the hell was happening, they were sitting alone, out in a field somewhere. A flock of nearby birds shot into the evening sky, frightened by their abrupt appearance. Laura watched them over Sweeney’s shoulder, growing smaller against the horizon, as she attempted to catch her breath. Not that breathing was required, but she needed a way to express her shock and hyperventilating seemed to be the way to go. Slowly, the tingling heat coiled its way backwards through her veins, finding its point of origin- Sweeney’s coin- and fizzled inside her chest with an audible hiss.

“That was …” she started to say, but stalled, unable to fully articulate a sentence when her head was filled with fuzz from their split-second journey.

“Surprising?” Sweeney suggested.

“Yeah, surprising,” Laura agreed. That word seemingly following her everywhere now.

“Not every day you get to travel with a leprechaun, aye?” Sweeney airily replied, his accent lacking its usual caustic growl. It was such a stark personality shift that Laura instantly pulled away to stare him in the face.

“You okay? You look … drunk,” she commented, taking in his glazed-over expression. “Or maybe sick.”

“That should mean something coming from a dead woman. It would be a shame if I happened to vomit maggots on you,” he replied, just before collapsing headfirst into her chest.

 

* * *

 

When it became apparent that Sweeney had only taken them a mere mile from where they originally sat inside the ice cream truck, Laura’s awe at his magical abilities shuttered. The truck was off in the distance. She’d spied it not long after standing to push Sweeney’s body off of her. Laura’s first instinct was to give him shit over it, but after glancing down at his crumpled unconscious form, she simply let out a colorful array of swear words. Eventually though, her growing irritation at having to carry a comatose Sweeney around got the best of her, and despite his inability to comprehend what she said, Laura began in on him anyway. “What was the point of me not fighting that cop and preserving my body, if you were going to make me drag your heavy as fuck self all over Middle America? You’re going to dislodge that arm you were so worried about before, I hope you know,” she grumbled. A sticky wetness slid down her neck in response, which meant he was drooling again. Laura made a noise of disgust before tossing her leprechaun baggage down into the tall grass surrounding them. “I’d leave you here, but you promised me some answers if I took your fucking hand,” she said, wiping away the slime coating her skin. "Guess I'll just have to wait for those, won't I?"

An hour later, just as the sun was setting, Laura found them a room at some cheap, off the highway motel. And while Sweeney slept on top of a bed comforter decorated with cigarette burns, she sat in front of the old box style TV, watching shows, swatting away flies, and sucking on the last of her cigarettes. Sometime during the night, Laura left her half-assed vigil for Sweeney, and went out to replace her empty pack of Camels. When she returned- a new pack in one hand and a pint of whiskey in the other- Sweeney was sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes transfixed on the TV screen. “This _Game of Thrones_ is fucking brutal,” he said, not bothering to glance in her direction.

“I see you’ve discovered the free _HBO_ ,” Laura snidely remarked and then threw her new pack directly at Sweeney’s head.


	3. Chapter 3

Normally, a pack of cigarettes thrust at Sweeney’s head wouldn’t have been painful. But when the throwing arm belonged to Laura Moon, anything was possible. Loose cigarettes went flying as the box exploded upon impact; a few tobacco bits drifted up his nose. And while Sweeney’s first instinct was to nurse the sudden painful throbbing in his temple, he instead found himself convulsively sneezing. “What the fuck, dead wife,” he sputtered once his nostrils had cleared and he’d wiped away the snot with his shirt.

She was still standing near the door, glaring. “I would’ve thrown the whiskey, but that’s not something I’m willing to waste. Also, I didn’t want you passing out again. I’ve already waited too fucking long as is.”

“But why throw anythin' at all. What have you got to be mad for? We’re outta that truck. No bullet holes in that rotten flesh of yours. And looks like your arm’s still attached. Ya just fucking used it to abuse me.”

Laura let out a single hard laugh. “You got us a mile away at best and then fainted, forcing me to haul your dead ass around for an hour.”

“If we didn’t get far and I passed out, that’s on you,” Sweeney accused, pointing a finger at her.

“Me? How the hell is this even remotely my fault, magic man?”

Laura drew closer, and Sweeney felt a phantom pain shoot through his hand at the memory of when his fingers had been broken by her in a similar situation. Not wanting to tempt the volatile temper she wore like a badge of honor, he lowered his hand. With his voice thick with reproach, he said, “Oh it’s your damn fault, alright. Next time I ask ya to believe in me, don’t fucking take my hand if ya don’t mean it. Think I can do this all on my own, do ya? Well, I can’t. I need faith for any of this to work. You’re in the land of fucking idolatry now. I can’t do much if you don’t offer me up your belief.”

Laura blinked a few times and shook her head. “Well, don’t fucking put me in a situation where I think you’re about to feel me up,” she shot back with considerably less bite than before. Whatever rage she’d been stewing in since he’d lost consciousness appeared to be at a simmer now.

Hedging his bets, Sweeney lifted his palms. No pointing this time; only an offer of truce. “I told ya that wasn’t what I was doin’. I needed to tap that power inside your chest. That coin and me, we’re a packaged deal.”

For a moment Laura was quiet, as if mentally debating something. Then Sweeney watched with cautious eyes as she breezed past him and turned off the television. “Normally I wouldn’t care,” she said, standing in front of the black screen and lightly pushing Sweeney’s chest, so that he fell ass down on the mattress. Laura took a swig of her whiskey, then placed it on the TV. “I have no shame and all that shit, right? But nothing has been _normal_ since I dug myself out of that grave, so …” In one quick motion, she pulled down her jacket’s zipper and revealed the savage imagery of her mangled flesh. The stitches between Laura’s breasts were ripped apart, the rotting muscle underneath exposed. “Everything else that’s going on, and _this_ ,” her fingers brushed against one of the skin flaps for emphasis, “is what’s bothering me. It’s fucked up. That I care so much. But there’s your reason why I had my doubts in you just before that whole-” she lifted her hands and made a wide circular motion with them, “magic thing you did.”

Sweeney was quiet as he watched Laura zip her jacket again, his mind flipping over various ways to respond. But when she stared down at him with that same defeated expression from the truck, he realized the choice had already been made. It was time to follow through with those answers he’d promised. “I knew that about ya,” he said, staring down at the mattress and absently brushing aside some of Laura’s strewn cigarettes. “Your chest being torn open and all.” A beat of silence followed before Sweeney looked back up and was greeted by an eyebrow arched in accusation. “Christ! It’s not like that.” He sighed, readying himself to expose another sliver of that soul inside. As vulnerable as it might make him, Sweeney knew it had to be done. “How d’you think that coin moved from your belly up into your chest? It wasn’t the accident that pushed it through your guts.”

Laura’s expression shifted into one of sudden awareness. “You?”

“Don’t recall hitting me in the face while I was hunched over ya on the side of the road?”

A rare look of guilt passed over Laura’s face. “Oh, but there’s been so many times I’ve done that. Lost count really.”

Sweeney snorted at her attempt to make light of those violent tendencies of hers. “Yeah, well, I had my coin back. It rolled right outta ya during the accident. And I was ready to walk away with it and be done with our shit road trip.”

“But you didn’t?”

“No, I didn’t. You were so close to findin’ life and Shadow again. ‘Course that didn’t go the way ya hoped. Gods and their fucking rules. Shittin’ on the rest of us. But back when I watched that coin melt into your body, I thought we both could get what we wanted. Hard to believe, I know, but underneath this bruised exterior, I’m not such a bad guy. A bastard, yes, but one who was gonna at least give ya a chance.”

Sweeney sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes drifting to the cigarettes again as something like embarrassment roiled in his stomach. A moment later Laura’s whiskey landed in his lap. “Here,” she said, taking a seat beside him. “I think you need this more than me. Mostly because when you're dead you can’t get drunk, but also because of that whole reveal thing you just did. Who would have thought? Asshole ginger minge has a heart.”

“Knock it off, will ya?” Sweeney took a long satisfying drink, his throat burning as the whiskey slid past it. And then the two of them sat in silence for a while, passing the bottle back and forth. No longer enemies, but not so much friends, either. It was an uncertainty he wasn’t sure how to navigate. In his eyes, Laura was an echo of his past affection for another. When it came to how she viewed him though, well, he wasn’t Shadow. Far from it. And that was who she wanted to be with. But … she also didn’t want to be dead.

Once the bottle was empty, Laura said his name softly, no hint of sarcasm or anger in her voice. With liquid courage running through his system, he felt slightly less anxious over his new vulnerable status, and glanced her way. “Yeah?”

“This connection between us, the one you say might bring me back to life. Where does it come from? I knew Shadow for years. We’re married for fuck’s sake. But you and I met two weeks ago, and for most of that time, I’ve hated you. Still kinda do.”

“And I don’t blame ya for that,” he said with a snicker. “I’ve definitely earned your ire.”

“So, why kiss me then? Why did you get my heart beating? What do you know about _us_ that I don’t?”

Her use of the word _us_ , weighed on him with memories of a freckled face framed by long curly red hair, and it caused Sweeny’s shoulders to drop as he let out a low groan. Then leaning forward on his elbows, he ran one of his rough hands over his beard. “I promised ya answers and I suppose I gotta deliver.”

“Unless you want another pack of cigarettes thrown at your head, then yeah, I’d say so.”

“What, you got another box hidden in that jacket?” Sweeney’s hand drifted to his still throbbing temple. Laura answered with a shrug and smirk. “Fuck it,” he said. “Let’s get this over with.” And after letting out a long defeated sigh, preparing himself to spill hit guts, Sweeney noticed that for the first time since meeting Laura, her smell didn’t bother him so much.

* * *

 

Laura tried not to laugh. On its own, Sweeney’s story was sweet in that weird fucked up way that tended to go along with her new reality. A leprechaun brought to America by one of her ancestors sounded like something Laura’s grandmother might’ve told her when she was a kid. But here in the _land of fucking idolatry_ \- as Sweeney had put it- this wasn’t a tale. It was someone’s true life experience. Essie MacGowan had been a woman Sweeney adored, and by the time he’d finished retracing Laura’s family tree, the amusement she’d been holding in finally broke free.

“Don’t laugh,” Sweeney said, his voice unguarded, showing that underside she’d appealed to earlier, assuming it was only a small piece of the puzzle that made up Mad Sweeney. But as it turned out, there was a lot more soft tissue inside him than she thought.

“It’s just …” She shook her head and a few flies rose from her body into the air. “I’m the great great great whatever of a woman who worshiped you. How far removed from this Essie ancestor can I be? She leaves out bread hoping you’ll guide her to what she wants. I, on the other hand, twist your balls until you _give_ me what I want. Seems like even if we are related, we aren't the same. At least not enough for you to feel a connection to her through me.”

“Oh, you’re more alike than ya think,” Sweeney countered, sounding wistful, but when she asked him to explain, he didn’t want to offer up any details. “It’s best left inside my memory.”

Laura didn’t push him, because in the end it didn’t matter how similar she was to Essie, only that Sweeney felt drawn to the modern day version of his past disciple. “But is it enough to fix me?” Laura asked.

“Not sure, but we can try.”

“And by _try_ , you mean what?”

Sweeney’s eyes idled on Laura’s lips before meeting her gaze. “Well, I think ya know what it means. Remember how I got that cold heart of yours to beat before?”

“Another kiss?”

“Well, it’s gotta last longer than just a kiss. A single beat isn’t gonna be enough to resurrect ya. You’ll probably have to put some effort into it this time. Can’t be only me doin’ the work,” Sweeney replied with a teasing smirk.

“Ugh, this all sounds like some morbid version of _Sleeping Beauty_ ,” Laura groaned.

Sweeney snorted at her comparison. “Now I wouldn’t go that far. You ain’t sleeping. You're dead, dead wife. Don’t suppose that prince thought he’d be kissing a maggoty mouth either.”

Laura ignored him. “How far do we take this?” she asked.

“As far as ya need, I suppose. It’s your call. I’m just a willin’ participant in this. Like always, you’re the one makin’ the rules.”

“Did you always know I was related to Essie?” Laura asked, changing the subject, trying to prolong the moment before she had to dive into this relife experiment with Sweeney. There was a low level of excitement squeezing her chest tight and it gave her an uneasy feeling.

“Not right away,” Sweeney answered. “I’ve been walking this land without her for too long now, and sometimes she’s not so easy to recall. But the more time I spent with ya- even with us hatin’ each other- I slowly got it. Why I fought with you less and less. It wasn’t that you’d beaten me into your submissive pup. Fucked up as it was, I realized I’d grown fond of ya. And then by the time I put that coin back in your chest, it was clear to me who ya were, and it’s probably why I wasn’t able to walk away from ya that day.”

“Is she why you kissed me?” Laura paused before asking her next question. “Were you in love with Essie?”

Sweeney shrugged. “Oh, I dunno. What’s fucking love anyway? Physically? Sure, she was beautiful in her prime. But it was more her devotion that kept me going. Ya just don’t get that kinda long suffering belief anymore.”

“Bet you would’ve fucked her if you got the chance,” Laura replied, lifting an eyebrow to tease

“Now is that anyway to speak of your ancestors?” Sweeney chuckled, but his laugh died with a grunt when she impulsively brought her mouth to his. Laura wasn’t gentle as she quickly escalated their moment beyond just a kiss by removing the clothes covering her lower half. “Bleeding Christ, woman,” Sweeney managed to say in between kisses. “Are we really doing this? Now?”

She answered by swinging her legs over his, and pushing him back onto the bed. After some maneuvering, Laura leaned forward so that her mouth was a breath away from his. “If I want to get this to work, I better give it my all. Now do I need to remove those pants for you?”

“Uh, no, I mean I-I guess. If that’s what you want … is that what you want?”

Laura laughed at the way she’d thrown him off balance. She really was fucked up. This whole situation was fucked up. But in this living dead reality she suffered through, what wasn’t fucked up? Best to just go along and enjoyed her new fucked up status. And with that mantra ringing in her head, she loosened Sweeney’s belt.

* * *

 

Although she’d started off with a rough kiss, Laura seemed careful not to be too forceful the further along she went, likely mindful of her strength. “Ya afraid of hurtin’ me?” Sweeney asked at one point. “For the first time in your life?” Laura flashed him a seemingly annoyed look but she didn’t deviate from her mission, and Sweeney had to remind himself this was only happening because she needed it to. With this in mind, he gripped her waist and became a silent participant, only making those certain noises that couldn’t be contained.

As her pace became steady, Laura’s eyes closed and her brows furrowed in concentration, which to him seemed an odd face for what she was doing. But then a sudden heat spread between their bodies, and her face appeared to flush as she flashed a glance down to him for some acknowledgment that he’d felt the same powerful force. “What was that?” Sweeney asked, breaking the silence.

Laura’s face lit up in a smile. “I think it’s working,” she said. It was a passing observation, soon abandoned as Laura focused again, leaning down to kiss him. Her mouth tasted less horrible than he remembered from all those other kisses he’d tried his best not to gag through. The taste was something akin to metallic. Like blood. And then he knew- the warmth, the taste- her heart was beating again. But would it keep pumping that blood once they were through, a situation that was drawing dangerously closer to happening? Sweeney closed his eyes, concentrating just as much as she seemed to be. Focusing on the coin and her and not at all about what was about to happen with him. Because for the first time, he really did care if this worked or not.

He wanted her to live just as much as she did, but also wouldn’t admit to himself why that was.


	4. Chapter 4

With only a magic coin pulling the strings, expectations didn’t always match up with reality, and for Laura, living dead sex felt a hell of a lot different than her past experiences. Or maybe it was just Sweeney that was different. She’d never fucked a leprechaun before. For all she knew there might be a pot of gold at the foot of the bed once they were done.

Whatever the reason for this change, Laura felt like she was experiencing sex from another room. Certain neurons weren’t firing in her brain, and she found it difficult to focus on what was happening. Embracing her fucked up-ness wasn’t turning out to be as enriching as she hoped. Not even a joke Sweeney made at her expense could provoke a clever insult to match his dumb observation about how careful she was being.

Still, Laura’s doggedness wasn’t ready to admit defeat and despite certain nerves not getting with the program of what a sexual encounter should feel like, she decided to approach their situation from another angle. Getting her heart to beat again wasn’t about sex or even kissing. It was about a connection. A spark. And she had to try to find that again. Sweeney’s affection for Essie was what really mattered, and so after closing her eyes, Laura focused on the leprechaun underneath her. On how he felt about Essie. Of the story he recounted and the vulnerable quality his voice took while taking about her.

_I’m Essie. She’s me. And you’re in love with me._

A sudden heat bloomed in Laura’s chest, then raced through her system, filling up every cold and dead cell with a comforting warmth. Quickly it spread outside her body and into the reason she was suddenly feeling sensations again- Sweeney and his love for Essie. A moment of giddy excitement passed between them- their eyes locking in amazement- before Laura’s happiness hardened back into resolve. She was determined not to lose momentum. Her mouth moved to his, savoring the taste of his tongue, and the scratch of his beard against her face. Nerves were igniting, and dulled senses breathing new again. She could fucking feel him for real now, and once that realization hit, it didn’t take her long to make the most of their time together. No longer feeling like she was in another room, Laura easily found that high she’d been chasing, and to her amusement, Sweeney actually groaned her name- not Essie’s- through it.

It was something she laughed about moments after rolling off of him. “My name? Really? Shouldn’t you have shouted some fucking Gaelic? You’re a leprechaun goddamn it.”

Sweeney muttered a few unintelligible words before moving off the bed, on a quest to find his abandoned clothes. Laura laughed again when she saw a few cigarettes stuck to his ass. “What, ya finish me off and the first thing ya do is poke fun at me instead of checkin’ to see if the coin’s magic worked.”

Laura didn’t want to admit that in some ways it _had_ worked, so she kept quiet. He probably knew anyway. She wasn’t exactly a silent partner near the end. “I’m stalling,” Laura admitted with a sigh, reaching for her underwear that had only made it to the edge of the bed during her hurry to undress. Even with everything they’d just experienced, there was still a pessimistic strain running through her brain, whispering that it hadn’t worked. She was afraid to check.

“Why the fuck ya doin’ that for?” Sweeney asked, stumbling as he pushed his foot through a pant leg. “We both felt my coin workin’. Just get it over with. Do ya have a fucking heartbeat or not?”

His tone was urgent, which probably meant he was anxious to have his coin back. Wasn’t that the whole point of this anyway? So they each could both get what they wanted? Only for some reason his rush to have an answer annoyed her. “Calm down, you’ll get your fucking coin.”

Sweeney growled, startling Laura. “I don’t care about that. Just tell me if you're alive.”

“Hold on, you don’t get to tell me what to do,” Laura scoffed, but was struck speechless when Sweeney scrambled over the bed and placed his ear against her chest.

“It’s there,” he said, seconds later with relief coating his discovery. “Faint-like, but there.”

Laura took a moment to savor this good news, before remembering that a leprechaun had the side of his face shoved between her breasts. She pushed him away using a light touch, but her strength sent him crashing down onto the bed.

“Still got the power of a beast, I see,” Sweeney remarked, tossing her a pillow in retaliation.

“Well, you haven’t taken your coin yet, so yeah.” She shoved the pillow back his way, knocking him down again.

Sweeney sat up. “Will ya quit it,” he grumbled, and Laura snickered.

“Gotta enjoy pushing you around while I still can,” she replied with a smirk, but her expression fell sharply when a sudden pain squeezed her insides. “Oooh shit!”

“What’s wrong?” Sweeney asked. Moving beside her, his hand reached around her back. “Is it your heart?”

“No … it’s-” Laura grasped her stomach as it lurched. “I just need a second,” she replied, not waiting for him to respond before locking herself inside their small motel bathroom. She wasn’t able to reach the toilet before it happened. Maggots spread across the floor, her body violently rejecting them. It wasn’t like all those other times. Laura was experiencing every disgusting piece of what having a gut full of larva felt like. Her newly alive body wouldn’t be a vessel for parasites to feed and was taking action to forcibly remove these intruders.

The process was long, with Sweeney standing outside the bathroom, asking several times if he could help. When she refused, he complained, “It’s not like I haven’t seen ya do that before. I can help.”

Laura answered with a retching noise, and after a few more failed attempts, Sweeney walked away. She wasn’t sure how much time passed once he’d left, only slightly aware that it felt like an endless cycle of throwing up, minutes of rest, and then another bout of holding her head over the toilet. After a while she finally ran out of maggots, but continued to heave, and finally collapsed onto the bathroom floor in exhaustion. The last thing she remembered thinking before her eyes slowly shut was how insufferable Sweeney would be when she woke up. Laura had no doubt he’d give her just as much hell for fainting as she’d given him.

* * *

 

It took Sweeney a few minutes to realize Laura had stopped throwing up, and a few minutes more of internal debate over whether to help, before he went and checked on her. Fuck it if she didn’t want him there. When had _she_ ever done anything he asked of her anyway? “You okay in there, de-uh-Laura?” He stopped short of using his favorite dismissive label for her. It no longer fit. She wasn’t dead anymore, and saying wife just reminded him of Shadow. Thinking of that bastard was the last thing he wanted right now.

When Laura didn’t respond, he pounded his fist against the door several times. “If you don’t answer, I’m gonna break this fucking thing down.” His threat was met with silence. “Well, can’t say I didn’t warn ya,” Sweeney said, then went to work, ramming his shoulder into the cheap wood. It took a few good thrusts, but eventually the thing splintered, leaving a small space for his hand. Reaching through, he twisted the handle from the other side. It wasn’t exactly breaking the door down, but the result was the same- he’d gotten inside the bathroom. What he found though, made his blood run cold. Sweeney would’ve been happy to see that she’d just been acting her typical cunty self by ignoring him. But instead he found her surrounded by maggots, lying in a heap on the floor. “Ah Christ, why do ya always have to be so fucking stubborn. Ya just had to lock me out, didn’t ya? Do this alone.” He scooped her into his arms and pressed an ear against her chest. The same heartbeat he’d detected earlier was weakly thrumming against her ribcage. She’d only passed out, although was barely hanging on.

Having never tried to resurrect a person before, Sweeney couldn't have predicted this outcome. He’d even questioned the validity of what they were trying to do, while they were doing it. That was, until he felt her life force rushing through him. But now that Laura had reached her desired outcome, how did she stay that way? How did _he_ keep her breathing when it sounded so fucking shallow? Because that was all he cared about at the moment. His only need was making sure she got a chance to stay in this world a little while longer. He’d have time to worry about Wednesday’s war when it finally happened. And by then, if she lived, Laura would likely be another memory he’d store away with Essie’s. One brought out when things got rough and he needed comfort.

“You’ll probably hate this,” he spoke to the unconscious Laura, gingerly laying her on the bed, and then moving in beside her. “This ain’t no fucking ya back to life or anythin’. It’s the soft romantic shit that’s not been a part of any relationship you’ve been in before. Not that we’re in a relationship. But we did fuck. And it wasn’t bad. Gotta be worth somethin’.” Sweeney waited, foolishly hoping for a response as he pulled her into his arms. “What? No telling me to piss off? That I was a shitty lover. Well, even if ya did say that, I know it’d be a lie. I heard ya yell out.” He sighed when she remained still and silent. “Guess I’ll just hold ya then. Hope ya like long boring stories about immortal life, because I’m gonna keep talkin’ till ya wake up.” He then absently kissed her forehead, an instinctive response to their closeness. Tenderness didn’t come easy to him, but for some reason in that moment it felt natural. “Soft and romantic, see? You’ll hate it, but ya also need it. And maybe I do too.”

Sweeney was only vaguely aware of time passing as he talked, turning his voice hoarse while recounting every story he could remember until he came to the bit about him and Laura. “Now I’m holdin’ ya in my arms,” he said to her, “because I guess I’ve got some feelings for ya and I don’t know how to tell ya. And if I did you’d probably laugh in my face. I’d deserve it. And could take it, because there ain't no love for Mad Sweeney in this world anymore. I’m used to being the fucking joke. A cunt from a cereal box waiting to give ya some marshmallows.”

It was then that his eyes flashed over to the drawn curtains, noticing for the first time that they were blue. The darkness of night had muted the fabric color, but now light was shining behind them, indicating a sun was on the other side. “Fuck,” Sweeney muttered. Laura was still out cold and their time was up. After carefully disentangling himself from her limbs, he went to have piss in the maggoty bathroom, and then removed some cash from Laura’s pants. They were still in a pile on the floor along with her shoes; the maggots had taken over before she’d gotten the chance dress completely. But just as Sweeney was opening the door, intending on using the last of their money for another night in this shithole, a voice stopped him.

“I don’t think you’re a joke. Well, you have done some pretty fucking stupid things, but as a whole you aren’t all that bad, or so I’ve learned.”

Sweeney whirled on his heels to see Laura sitting up. “You’re awake.”

“And you’re pretty adept at stating the obvious.”

He swallowed hard. “You ... h-how much did ya hear?”

Laura ran a hand through her hair, shaking the strands to remove some dead maggots. “I have fuzzy memories of someone blabbing away, like I was on the other end of an incredibly long and brain numbing phone conversation that kept cutting out.”

Sweeney rolled his eyes. “Well, ya must be well enough if you’ve got the energy to take the piss outta me.”

“Oh, you know me.” She sent him a facetiously sweet smile, before standing and fishing her pants from the ground. “And I know you. But maybe not everything.” Laura stared at him, her eyes shifting from playfulness to determination, and it made Sweeney groan. Trying to heal her with tenderness appeared to be backfiring, and he watched suspiciously as she slid up beside him. With one hand, Laura reached for the door handle he’d let go of, and with the other she removed the money from in his back pocket. “Now why don’t we get some food? My alive stomach is no longer full of maggots and I haven’t eaten in weeks. And maybe while we’re there, you can fill me in on some of those gaps from that long one-sided phone conversation I had with you.”


	5. Chapter 5

Laura Moon was no damsel in distress. If you entered her life, it was because she wanted you there, and not for any archaic notion of needing to be taken care of. When it came down to it, she could get by fine on her own and it was a point of pride for her. Which was why it pained Laura to admit that when her resurrection attempt worked only partially, she’d become what she hated- a helpless woman dependent on a man. For hours, her body lay limp in Sweeney’s arms. She regained consciousness at some point, long enough to hear a leprechaun go on about his life and how she fit into it. Without him, Laura might’ve died a second time on that bathroom floor. She was glad he’d made the effort, but it still made her Sweeney’s damsel in distress, and it became a subject of contention between them after they finally reached the restaurant.

Sweeney, who was sitting opposite Laura in a booth, snorted at her complaint. “You? Damsel in distress? Now ain’t that a fucking laugh. Not so much in distress when ya have me by the nuts. And ya know, now that I think of it, that would make me the damsel. And a pretty one at that.” He winked.

“Yeah, I suppose you do whine like a little bitch,” she replied.

“Ya got me there,” he admitted with a chuckle.

“But hey, back to me,” Laura said, waving a hand in front of his face. “What I was trying to say is I’m not used to needing someone to take care of me.” She paused to smirk, making sure Sweeney noticed before continuing. “Or having a leprechaun pussyfoot around saying he loves me when he thinks I’m unconscious.”

Sweeney stared blankly back, not taking the bait. “Uh yeah, didn’t ya say there was an extra pack of ciggs in your jacket?”

Laura’s smugness fell into a glower over his unwillingness to discuss what he’d admitted while thinking no one was listening. Although, at that moment it wasn’t her main concern, so the subject was dropped. Without a word, she took out her cigarettes and tossed them his way. When she stood seconds later, Sweeney asked, “Where ya off to. We just got here.”

“To find a bathroom.”

“Haven’t ya already spent enough time in a bathroom? What ya got in that body to get rid of anyway. There ain’t no food or drink in ya? Unless there’s more maggots.” Sweeney let the flickering flame of his lighter dim in front of the unlit cigarette pressed between his lips as worry creased his forehead. “Tell me there ain’t no more maggots.” A less perceptive person might’ve confused Sweeney’s concern for sarcasm, but Laura could always see through his bullshit. And this time at least, he actually did care.

“I’m fine,” Laura assured, patting his head as if he were a child. “Just smoke that and I’ll be right back.” She ruffled his hair to drive home the patronizing effect and he swatted her hand away with a grumble.

Truthfully, Laura’s intent had nothing to do with needing a bathroom and everything to do with curiosity. Since waking up, something had felt different inside her and she wondered if that new blood running through her veins had changed anything on the outside. She wasn’t expecting much beyond the look of death no longer holding her body hostage, but when Laura finally saw her reflection in the mirror above the ladies room sink, she nearly gasped at the woman staring back.

It was her, but also wasn’t.

The change of her irises stood out the most. They were no longer brown, but a deep rust, and as she scrutinized them, Laura noticed that her eyelashes seemed to be coated with mascara even though she wasn’t wearing an ounce of makeup. Her skin was pink again- no longer the deathly pale of a decaying body- and as strange as it sounded, she looked less flawed. Familiar facial scars had vanished and her lips were slightly plumper, reminiscent of a supermodel’s pout. Eventually Laura moved beyond her face and touched the hair framing it. Strands of light brown now gleamed with the sheen of a woman who’d just gotten done shooting a shampoo commercial. "Who the fuck _are_ you?" she asked her reflection, because while there were recognizing features, everything seemed so heightened. This wasn’t Sweeney’s dead wife, but it also wasn’t the alive version she’d been before. All her unique imperfections were gone, as if that Laura had never existed.

And then she thought of the biggest fucking flaw of all. Unzipping her jacket, Laura exposed the breasts underneath. “Holy shit,” she exclaimed. The skin was like new, without a hint she’d ever been torn apart in an accident. Amazed over this discovery, she dropped her jacket to the floor and admired her newly healed body. And when the bathroom door swung open moments later, it didn’t even register with her to put the jacket back on. An older woman walked in and gaped at a topless Laura in front of the mirror. After a minute of gawking, the woman shook her head and moved past the crazy lady possibly losing her mind. And maybe Laura was. Because how the fuck did she look so different? Even her breasts appeared perkier. This had to be some magical leprechaun shit, and once she’d slipped back into her jacket Laura left the bathroom, intent on getting answers.

Sweeney was still at the table, one cigarette in the ashtray, another in his mouth. Laura snatched the one he was smoking and took a long drag. “What the fuck, Sweeney,” she said, sliding back into her seat.

“You’ll have to be more specific,” he replied, removing another cigarette from the pack on the table. “Oh, and I hope ya like coffee. I ordered for us both.”

“Why am I perfect?” Laura asked, glancing at the drink in front of her, before turning her eyes back to Sweeney, who nearly choked on his smoke at her question.

“Damsel in distress and now perfect? Ya ain’t exactly great at persevin’ yourself correctly.”

“Stop fucking around,” Laura said, taking another drag. “Did you turn me into something else? I feel different and look different, and there’s nothing on my body that says I existed before we fucked last night. All my scars are gone. My tits are symmetrical again.”

Sweeney didn’t answer right away, fixing Laura with a contemplative stare, before snuffing out his cigarette in the ashtray. “Nah, you're still you. That DNA ain’t changed. But what we say is resurrection, might just be rebirth. You’re you, but a clean slate. All those fuck-ups ya did before, your body’s forgotten them. ‘Course I’m just guessin’ here. As long as my coin’s still in there, I can’t be sure what to consider ya. You’re alive again, but have the power of my magic too.”

“Like a god?”

“Oh, I dunno,” he replied, taking a drink of his black coffee. “You’d need someone worshipin’ ya for that.”

Sweeney’s answer brought to mind his awkward confessions from the motel, and she stopped short of taking a gentle swipe at him, asking if maybe _he_ worshiped _her_. For some reason it didn’t feel right, and Laura wondered if maybe there was a part of her that was starting to appreciate him. Not just for keeping her alive, but for being something of a friend. His intentions may have been murky, mixed with a need for his coin and a love for Essie, but it made him stick around despite her best efforts to push him away. And as Laura gazed into Sweeney’s dark eyes- a shade much like hers now- she felt her frustration fade. It wasn’t such a big deal that her body had changed. She’d gotten what she set out for, more or less, and now it was her turn to repay the favor. “So how do I get this coin back to you? There’s not going to be a bloody mess when you pry it out of me is there?”

Sweeney shook his head, then scanned her face with a look that appeared weary. “No blood, just a bit of magic like before. But you’ll have to believe in me this time. Think we’ve both had enough with each other passin’ out. Let’s not repeat it again.”

“Well, with my tits newly reformed, I give you full permission to feel me up this time,” Laura said, her mouth slowly curving into a teasing grin. “Just go for it. Give them a good squeeze if you need to.”

The heaviness in Sweeney’s gaze momentarily lightened. He didn’t say anything in response, but his eyes told her enough, and she felt a strange sense of satisfaction, as if making him less miserable affected her own happiness. As if she might actually care about him. It would’ve been an unlikely thought only a few days ago, but now the situation between them had evolved, and she found herself feeling slightly less cynical about him.

* * *

 

“Aww shit. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Sweeney fumbled with the coin he’d just transitioned from Laura body into his palm, while trying to keep a very dead, dead wife from slipping to the ground. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to do this outside, but he hadn’t thought she would fucking die. Her body was new again, and didn’t need his coin.

But apparently she did. And after taking quick stock of the situation- Laura dead, cradled against his body, his coin clenched tightly in his fist- Sweeney didn’t hesitate to do what was necessary to bring her back. Laura’s lips parted, and her loud rasping gasp filled the space between them as the coin made its descent back into her chest. “Oh my god,” she said, her glassy gaze coming into focus and her spine straightening. “You killed me.”

“I didn’t know that would happen. You weren’t gone long. Five seconds maybe. I thought this would work. Why didn’t it? Why the fuck didn’t it?” He was stumbling over his words, each sentence bleeding into the next at an ever increasing pace, enough to make Laura reach up and place a hand over his mouth.

“Calm the fuck down,” she ordered. “I’m the one who should be having a crisis here not you. I died. _Again._ ”

Sweeney’s nostrils flared as he freed himself from her hand. “Bleedin’ Christ I know that. I know ya died. I felt it happen. But I put that coin back in ya, didn’t I? Again. I saved your life. Again.” Throwing his hands in the air, he moved away from her, suddenly becoming aware of a couple near the restaurant’s entrance staring at them. He would’ve told them to fuck off, but he’d rather tell himself that. “This was a bad idea,” he muttered.

“What’s a bad idea?” Laura asked, sounding annoyed.

“Doin’ this here, a few feet away from the wonderful customers of _Denny’s_ ,” he said, waving sarcastically at the couple. “How are ya? Enjoying the show? I’ll give ya a fucking show.”

“Stop it. Leave them alone.” Laura pulled his hand down with a steely grip. He didn’t try to yank it away. With the coin’s strength still powering her, he’d likely lose his appendage in the process. So Sweeney channeled his ire differently, by letting a few ancient swear words leave his mouth as he kicked a nearby tree. “Don’t make me step on your foot too,” Laura warned. “I can still take you down if I need to.”

“Oh, I know that all too well,” Sweeney grumbled.

“So, again, I’ll ask, why are _you,”_ Laura tapped him on the chest using her index finger, “having a crisis?”

“Because ya died,” he answered, his voice thick with emotion. “Because it means what we did wasn’t enough. You’re not rottin’ anymore, but ya can’t live without magic. So where does that leave me. Without my coin, sure, but that was always the consolation prize. I’d get my coin back and you’d leave. But now I gotta lose both.”

“Lose me?” Laura peered up at him quizzically. “Did you think I was going to stay?” There was pity laced in her words and Sweeney could hardly stand it. Hate he could take. But Pity. That’s all anyone ever gave him anymore. And when that sympathy came from Laura, it pushed him beyond pathetic into an unbearable state of existence.

“No. I never thought you’d stay. I’m not that thick. Just never thought I’d have to lose my coin too.” He attempted to tug his hand free, but Laura wouldn’t let go, and tightened her grasp. “Just take your new body and my coin, will ya, before I change my mind. Not as if I need it fightin’ Wednesday’s war or anythin’. Would be perfect goin’ out there and getting myself blown to pieces right away. A fucking beautiful end to the joke I’ve become.”

“Oh god, will you stop being such a fucking baby?”

“Huh?”

Laura let out an exasperated sigh. “Look, I have an idea of why this didn’t work. I’m willing to try and fix this if you’ll stop having a fucking pity party.”

“What idea ya got in mind?”

“It involves another motel room,” Laura explained, letting go of Sweeney’s hand to remove a piece of lint from his shirt. “So we’ll probably have to hustle some money. And then I’ll have to make an effort at doing something I haven’t before.” She looked up and the sunlight hit her eyes, showing off the new brownish red tint of her irises. He hated admitting to himself how beautiful they looked. But they fucking did.

“What do ya gotta do that ya haven’t before. Be nice?” Sweeney snorted, somehow finding it in himself to be playfully sarcastic again, even if he was still feeling fatalistic.

One corner of Laura’s mouth pulled upward. “Why yes, ginger minge, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. To _you_.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I still consider this chapter to be within the range of a T rating, I will admit that it does push against the edges of an M.

For Sweeney and Laura, hustling money meant him performing some mediocre magic trick of distraction while she stole a wallet. Laura was very particular on who they should rob. It couldn’t be anyone old or seemingly nice, and even if all her rules annoyed Sweeney, she still waited until meeting the douchiest guy before setting their act into motion. Already drunk, it was easy to take advantage of him, and by that evening a room was booked for her and Sweeney at a place less run-down than the last. This one had a bedspread without cigarette burns and a few other amenities the other had lacked, making it just right for what she had in mind.

“Are ya gonna stop being so damn secretive and tell me what ya got planned for us in here?” Sweeney asked, plopping himself down in a chair and stretching out his long legs with a groan.

“Who exactly is the one being so secretive?” Laura replied, closing the curtains of the room’s only window. “I’ve tried several times to get you to spill your guts about what you said when you thought I was asleep. And you keep changing the subject.”

“Yeah, well, that’s personal. I was only doin’ it to help keep ya alive. I don’t have to say any more. I’ve done my part.” Sweeney crossed his arms across his chest definitely, which made Laura laugh. He was going for tough, as if to say the subject was closed. Instead, he looked petulant.

“Well, if you want me to do my part to get that coin back to you without any fatalities, you’re going to have to spill your guts to me.” He glared definitely at this demand, until she added, “And in return, I promise to do the same.”

Sweeney leaned forward. “What kinda guts are ya gonna be spillin’?”

Laura sat down on the bed and faced Sweeney’s chair. “Won’t know until you tell me what you really think.”

A few seconds of internal debate appeared to be going on in Sweeney’s head as he pulled at a loose thread on his sleeve. “Won’t guarantee ya any answers, but go ahead and ask me somethin’,” he finally agreed, yanking the thread clean off and staring up at Laura.

“Was this whole road trip- chasing Shadow and Wednesday- a way for you to stay near me and not just for the coin?” A beat of silence passed between them, before Laura finally asked the question that mattered. “Are you in love with me?”

Surprisingly, Sweeney was straightforward. After swearing under his breath, he answered, “Yes,” while rising from his chair. But he didn’t make an effort to come any closer.

Stunned at having gotten him to confess so quickly, it took Laura a few seconds to remember what to ask next. “But why me? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“I can’t say why,” he replied. “Only that I feel it. It’s like a goddamn instinct I can’t turn off. I feel a connection to ya, like I did with Essie.”

“So what you really mean is that you love Essie?”

“No, I fucking love _you_. It’s true, you’re like her. But the parts I find myself wantin’ from ya aren’t the same as what belonged to her. Essie was her own person. Her devotion to me was enough. But you, ya get under my skin. I don’t know whether to curse ya or recite goddamn poetry to ya. I’m a fucking mess.”

Laura chuckled at the poetry line and then asked, “If you wanted me, why not just say it? Why did I have to pull it out of you?”

“I didn’t know what it was that I felt for ya until after the accident. And what’s the point? Things are messy. There’s a war coming. It’s not safe for you to be with me,” he said. “Nor is it safe for me to be involved with another man’s wife. Especially when he’s Wednesday’s man.”

Laura wanted to laugh. “I hate to break it to you, but you’re not as badass as you’d like to think. I got into a fair amount of shit before you even found me in that motel and tried to steal my coin.”

“My coin,” Sweeney corrected.

Laura shrugged. “And as far as Shadow goes, I think we both know he’s moved on. We weren’t exactly on good terms back at Ostara’s.” Laura sighed, remembering how it felt to be rejected not just once, but twice. “I don’t know what I was thinking continuing to chase him. He was always too good for me anyway,” she commented more to herself than Sweeney.

But for some reason this brought out Sweeney’s softer side, and he finally came to sit down next to her. “Now don’t say that. It isn’t true,” he said in a consoling tone.

Laura snorted. “As if you didn’t try and convince me of the same fucking thing last week.” Sweeney didn’t have a response for that and just looked guiltily off to the side. “But hey, you were right, and maybe it’s because of you that I’ve come to realize Shadow isn’t the person I should fixate on. He isn’t this cure for me. I have to deal with my issues on my own. And fuck do I have a lot of them. But so do you.”

“Yeah so? What are ya sayin’?”

“I’m saying that maybe I’m not capable of love, not even for Shadow, but I am capable of kindness,” Laura said, reaching over and grasping Sweeney’s hand. “I want to show you a part of me that isn’t always on the outside. I told you I would be honest with you if you were with me, and so despite you being this massive asshole who drives me crazy, there’s also something about you that I like. So let’s just make whatever this is work for a little while.”

Confusion clouded Sweeney’s eyes, and Laura decided to take a more direct approach. Excusing herself to the bathroom, she emerged minutes later without an inch of clothing on. Sweeney got to his feet the moment he saw her and gaped for bit, causing Laura to roll her eyes. “Really? That’s the look I get? I’m offended,” she said, before moving to stand in front of him.

“What? I’m not supposed to be surprised that ya ain’t wearing any clothes?”

“You’ve already seen me naked from the waist down. What’s the big deal if you see my tits too?”

“The big deal is that you’re naked and I don’t know why.”

“Why are you so slow to grasp things?” she sighed, then gave his arm a good yank, bringing his lips down to hers. Fuck was he tall. So tall she was forced to stand on the balls of her feet while guiding his hand down the curve of her ass. Sweeney moved his other hand into a similar position and she pressed her body into his, their kiss becoming more passionate. But it all ended abruptly when Sweeney stepped away, prompting Laura to ask, “Where the fuck are you going?”

There was a gleam in his eyes that she hadn’t ever seen from him before. “Ya can’t come out here lookin’ like that and not give me a chance to admire the _perfect_ body ya wouldn’t shut up about earlier … the one I helped ya create.”

“You’re so fucking weird,” Laura said, but despite this sentiment, she went along with his request. Pulling away, she struck a pose and watched as his gaze moved slowly from her face, down her body, and then up again. When Sweeney’s eyes settled back on hers, his stare was intense, and Laura thought she felt the sensation of a blush. How long had it been since that happened? Long enough for her to forget. To Laura, embarrassment was an emotion for those concerned with what others thought, and she never had. But something in his look had triggered that long lost sensation inside her.

“Is that a faint bit o’ red I see on your face?” Sweeney teased, stepping closer again. She sent him a warning glare and even if he didn’t say another word about her flushed cheeks, the joke was still in his eyes as he cupped one of her breasts. “Seem to recall ya saying this was okay, that I could feel ya up.”

“In relation to getting the coin out of me,” she replied, exaggerating a sigh that ended with a sly smile. “But I guess I’ll let you check out my new perkier tits.”

Laura felt the sharp raised skin of his callouses brush briefly against her breasts, before Sweeney surprised her by falling to his knees, moving his hands to her waist, and trailing kisses downward to her stomach. His lips stalled just below her belly button, and Laura’s breath hitched anticipating his next move. But when he suddenly rose without warning, she let out a small noise of shock that he seemed amused by. What the fuck was going on? She was blushing and Sweeney was happy. This was some seriously fucked up shit … for them, at least. Strange what being open and honest could do for a relationship, or whatever it was they had going on.

“You’re a fucking jerk, I hope you know. That was a pretty shitty and rude thing to do,” Laura mildly berated. “Especially when I’m trying to be nice here.”

Sweeney’s mouth met hers again, and in between a string of kisses he said, “Told ya I was a bastard? But I’ll try my best to make up for that teasin’.” He then lowered Laura down to the bed; her bare back pressed up against a mattress that thankfully wasn’t covered in cigarettes this time. “Is this really happenin’?” he asked while kissing down her neck.

“I think we both deserve a good fucking, and not just one out of necessity,” she replied. Sweeney laughed at this and his breath felt hot against her skin.

Moving his face above hers he said, “I love ya, Laura, as fucked up as that sounds.”

“Fucked up, but understandable,” she replied with a smile, unable to repeat the word _love_ back to him. But Sweeney understood. He was aware enough to know she he did care about him, and it was this affection for the leprechaun that had her swimming in anticipation as he shrugged out of his clothes. When Sweeney knelt between her legs seconds later, his forehead creased and his eyes flashed a sentimental look that revealed a different person than the one he’d shown her in the beginning. Laura’s no longer dead heart, swelled at the sight of this side of him and she promised that this time would be different. She wasn’t Essie. Just Laura. And she would make sure their experience was less about her this time.

This was for them.

When Sweeney finally fell down beside her sometime later, he gathered Laura into his arms and kissed her. But she pulled away just enough to look into his eyes and ask with a smile, “I told you I was going to be nice to you. Was that nice enough?”

“Very,” he chuckled, and then brushed his lips across her forehead. When a sudden grin spread his mouth wide, she arched an eyebrow and he answered the unspoken question written on her face. “Just thinking about makin’ good on my promise.” Moving above her, he gripped her waist and began kissing between her breasts, and slowly continued downward.

“If you fucking stop this time-” Laura began, but Sweeney spoke over her.

“I have no intention on stoppin’,” he breathed against her skin, slowly continuing until his mouth reached its destination. After that, there weren't any more complaints from her, only a very vocal Laura urging him to keep going.


	7. Chapter 7

“I don’t think I can go home,” Laura said while staring out into the darkness. She was leaning over the railing of the walkway that ran by their second floor room. It was a non-smoking hotel. Although, Sweeney couldn’t figure out why she was being a stickler for rules all of the sudden. They hadn’t exactly been on their best behavior at that last place. He was fairly certain breaking bathroom doors and leaving trails of maggots everywhere was consistent with bad guest behavior. Still, he followed her outside; each smoking their own cigarette, while Laura spoke. “No, that’s not what I meant,” she continued after a few seconds. “I’d like to go home to see my family, but I think they’d react like my friend Audrey did.”

“And how did Audrey react?” Sweeney asked.

“Screamed her fucking head off while I shit out embalming fluid in front of her.”

“You plannin’ on shittin’ in front of your family?” Sweeney chuckled at his joke and Laura smacked him on the back. “Ow. Don’t forget ya still have my coin. That hurt.”

“It was meant to,” Laura said, tossing her finished cigarette over the railing.

“Hey, I thought ya were tryn’a be nice.”

Laura sighed loudly at this reminder. “You’re right. But don’t make a fucking joke when I’m trying to have a moment with you.”

“What kinda moment?”

“About what we do after this. About me and you and what happens tomorrow and the next day.” Laura turned to look at him, her face softening some in the hazy glow of a light a few rooms down. Then she smiled. Her whole face seemed relaxed and happy. And for the first time since realizing he loved her, Sweeney wasn’t filled with worry over her leaving him. It would happen, no doubt. But for now, it was far enough away that he could put it in the back of his mind.

Still, he didn’t want to appear too eager by letting her know just how much sway she had over his emotions. Sweeney took a drag of his cigarette and slowly blew out the smoke before he replied, “I thought ya were talkin’ ‘bout your family.”

“Well, see there’s this thing, ginger minge, called a segue. I was going to build up from them to you.”

“Do ya have to keep insultin’ me with that name?” he grumbled.

“Yes. I like it.”

“Well, do I still get to call ya _dead wife_?” Sweeney asked, although he’d already abandoned the nickname the night before. “Or how ‘bout _damsel in distress_? I know how much ya just love that term of endearment.”

Laura pursed her lips. “Point taken.”

“So, this segue,” he said, guiding the conversation back to its original subject. “Was it somethin’ like, Sweeny, my love, I want to stay with ya forever and have lots of loud sex with ya until we both cease to be.”

“Oh god, no.” Laura scrunched up her nose. “I think I need to suffocate that bad taste you just gave me, with some smoke.” She lit another cigarette as Sweeney let his join her old one over the edge.

“Ah, ya know I was only teasin’. Though I know my sense of humor ain’t for everyone,” he admitted in an attempt to mollify her. “Please, finish that segue thing of yours. I won’t say nothin’ till you’re done. Leprechaun’s promise.”

Her eyes narrowed skeptically at him, but she continued anyway. “I don’t know where my place is now. Maybe it’s on my own again. And I’m not sure how long until you have to be in Wisconsin. But until then, I think we should just keep at what we’re doing. And not just what we did in there.” Laura gestured to their room’s door. “But whatever it is you did before we met.”

“Well, it would be a hell of a lot easier for us if I could make my own gold again. But I need my coin for that,” he said, pressing a finger gently to her chest. Sweeney’s ability to conjure gold at will had withered away after the loss of his lucky coin. Now whenever he tried, nothing appeared. It made him feel fucking impotent.

“Let’s get to it then,” Laura suggested, pulling his whole hand against her chest and covering it with hers. “Take it from me.”

Sweeney tugged his hand free. “Yeah, but what about last time … I don’t want to kill ya again.” He grimaced at the memory of her lifeless body in his arms.

“ _Sweeney, my love_ ,” she deadpanned, making him smirk. “I don’t think that will be a problem anymore. I had a theory that if we fucked like we meant it then that would solve my dying problem.”

“Well, we might have to put in some more work in that area. I’m not sure you put in your best effort.” Laura sent him a withering stare and Sweeney backed down, showing her the palms of his hands in defense. “I was only kiddin’ again. That terrible sense of humor and all.”

But then a corner of her mouth lifted. “Maybe you have a point,” she said, letting her finished cigarette fall over the edge. Down below someone loudly swore.

Sweeney lifted an eyebrow. “I-I do?”

Laura half-shrugged and walked to their door, glancing back to say, “Are we doing this or not?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Sweeney replied and quickly followed her into the room.

* * *

 

When you had a body that could withstand most anything, sex with a leprechaun seemed pretty fucking ridiculous; not that Laura had much time to think about this. She had endless energy and didn't need to take a break to catch her breath, and Sweeney didn't need much time to recover either. It was a seemingly endless cycle of fucking, and the whole absurdity of it finally hit her sometime during the early morning hours. Laura laughed into Sweeney’s chest and he lost his concentration, pausing long enough to pull away and ask, “What do ya find so funny?” His voice was defensive. Obviously this wasn’t the right response for his ego.

“Because I figured out what you’re doing,” Laura replied. “You’re trying to distract me, so you won’t have to take the coin out just yet. You’re such a coward.” She laughed again and Sweeney frowned down at her.

“Oh yeah, ya think so?”

“I know so.” Laura smiled sweetly back, more to irritate him than anything else. “But I have to say it was a very effective strategy.”

Another bubble of laughter was building inside her, but Sweeny kept it from escaping with a kiss that lasted long enough for him finish without anymore of her teasing. Then without warning, the feel of his hand moved across her chest and Laura’s back arched beneath him. She gasped and just like that the coin materialized in his hand. He rolled off her and sat up to reveal it. “I ain’t no coward,” Sweeney said smugly, flipping the coin and catching it mid spin.

“Maybe not,” Laura responded, situating herself on her knees. “But you were taking a chance that you’d be fucking a corpse if it didn’t work.”

“What d’ya think I was doing back at that other motel. Ya weren’t exactly alive back then.” He flipped the coin again, watching it with hungry eyes.

Laura shot him a dirty look. “Alive enough to let you know if you were good at it or not.”

“And was I?” Sweeney bit the coin.

She answered his question with an eye roll, before becoming aware of dormant sensations suddenly waking up inside her body. All were unpleasant reminders of what it was like to be human, and how having sex for hours could wear on you. “Can you just see if your magic works again? We’ll discuss your necromancy tendencies later. But right now I need to get some painkillers in me.” She groaned while cracking her neck.

“Ya alright?” Sweeney asked, finally focusing on her instead of his coin.

Laura rolled her shoulder. “Just ... you know, we might have to forgo the marathon sex now that I’m normal again.”

Sweeney’s expression turned apologetic. “Sorry. Didn’t think ‘bout how your body could easily break again, kinda got used to ya being an all-powerful creature.” Then he moved his hand over to her shoulder and began kneading the skin.

But Laura tensed. “What are you doing?”

His fingers stalled. “Looked like it was hurt. Just wanted to help. Is that wrong?” Sweeney withdrew his hand and ran it over his beard a few times, trying to hide a dejected look, but he wasn’t successful, because Laura noticed.

And fuck! It was affecting her. Guilt began pooling inside her heart and she grasped his hand away from his face. “I’m sorry,” Laura forced out. “I think I’ve just been on the defensive for so long now- not just with you, but with everyone- that it’s hard to recognize when someone’s being nice just to be nice.”

Sweeney smiled sheepishly and leaned in closer. “I think we might both have issues with that.” Then after a quick kiss, he flicked his wrist and produced a handful of gold coins. “Suppose we could get ya some real meds for those sore muscles.”

Laura returned his smile, and was about to suggest they get dressed when Sweeney added more coins to the ones already in his palm. So many in fact that they spilled out onto her, and some struck with such force that she leapt from the bed. “What are you doing?”

“I can’t- it’s not s-stopping,” he stuttered, shaking his hand which caused the coins to fly in all directions.

“Well, figure it out!” Laura ducked to avoid getting hit.

“I’m tryin’. Guess I’m just outta practice,” Sweeney said, flicking his wrist several more times before the cascade of gold finally stopped. He grimaced when the whole thing was done and over with, which made Laura laugh so hard that she doubled over onto the bed.

“I hope that doesn’t happen the next time we fuck,” she managed to say after calming down some. “You’d probably knock my teeth out.”

At this Sweeney chuckled, and added, “Well, if anythin’ I’d say we’ve got enough gold here to buy ya a whole new set of teeth if need be.”

* * *

 

They left the hotel an hour later, after showering and Laura commenting on how she needed a new outfit that wasn’t covered in maggot stains. Noticing his own clothes that had come in contact with the same slimy grubs, Sweeney figured they were both due for a new wardrobe. Still, he couldn’t resist a joke at her expense. “Typical woman. Takin’ me shoppin’.”

Laura elbowed him in the ribs. “Look, I know you’re centuries old, but times are different now than when you were a bird- or whatever- and that blatant outdated sexism will get you nowhere with me.”

“Calm down. I was just takin’ the piss outta ya.”

“And stop saying that,” Laura told him as they made their way down the stairs leading out into the parking lot. “I don’t know what the fuck it means.”

Sweeney sighed. “It means I’m jokin’ with ya, most likely at your expense, but in a humorous way that’s meant to say I love ya.”

Laura stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned to face him. “Oh,” she said, like maybe there was an apology waiting in the wings of her mind. Instead, she quipped, “Similar to when I call you ginger minge? That’s just me taking the piss out of you.”

“Sure, I guess, _damsel in distress_ ,” he replied with a wink, and Laura chuckled.

Then reaching for his hand, she laced her fingers with his, and they began walking in step. But really it was her leading him. Which, Sweeney thought, was a perfect metaphor for how the next few weeks would be with Laura at his side. And it didn’t even register with him to be annoyed by this, because deep down he wanted to relinquish control. If he was going to meet his fate in Wednesday’s war, he’d spend every moment before it trying to make the woman he loved happy.

Because she’d done something for him that no one had in a long time. Laura Moon had given him a reason to care.

* * *

For most of this fic [this song ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Ke4480MicU)was a driving force in getting me to write. I feel it fits madwife perfectly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and if you've enjoyed my fic, please leave a comment letting me know.
> 
> Also thanks to PullTogether for all of the fandom blind beta-ing.


End file.
